Introductions
by LoreWren
Summary: Sif meets: Prince Loki, Thor, Asgard's princes, and Loki. One-sided Loki/Sif if you squint.


Sif met to Asgard's two princes on four separate occasions.

* * *

><p>The first time was when she had still been watching the fighting classes from the shadows. Sif knew from her family's reaction that people would latch on to any reason to stop her from fighting, and intended to give the impression of being a natural on her first day. She had found a small clearing hidden behind trees, and run through each move, working for hours from memory after all the others had left.<p>

Keen-eyed Loki had spotted her, from hair flashing in the trees or from odd shadows or from some magic trick; she never knew. Given who he was, he had tried to sneak up on her. Given who she was, she had flipped him.

After they fought a few minutes, he promptly stated, "You are exceptionally good for your age and level of training."

Sif was at a loss. She had never seen the second prince be blunt. "Uh. Okay?"

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. "You are unlikely to improve much without direct training. Gaining age without skill renders you less impressive with each passing day." His eyebrow quirked, softening the offense to teasing. "Was that sufficiently insulting for you to accept the compliment?"

* * *

><p>The next day she met Thor, because he was in one of those moods where he called for anyone to give him a challenge and that simply made for too good an opportunity to pass up.<p>

"I'll fight," she called, stepping out of the forest.

Chuckles and surprised whispers had run through the crowd. Thor, in his usual way, simply said, "A new face! What's your name?" He didn't give his, but then, Sif doubted Thor ever had to interact with someone who didn't know it.

"Sif." She realized as she spoke that she hadn't told Loki the day before.

A boy somewhere in the crowd said, "I call winner!" and a laugh rippled through the crowd. The only joke Sif could guess was that it was so obvious who would win. It didn't seem that funny. An inside joke, maybe, one she hadn't been able to hear above the usual background noise? It didn't matter.

They fought. Thor had an advantage in size. Sif had an advantage in agility, and the fact that she had watched him fight nearly every day of her training. She knew that Thor fought directly, each movement nearly instinctive. But Thor had no strategy.

"I give; I give!" And it was Thor saying it, to Sif's surprise. She had seen how often each of the two brothers fought, and how often Loki used his magic, and assumed Thor would be better. But she had barely won against Loki, and won easily against Thor. As she got off him, Sif wondered if she would help Thor learn to fight, now that he had someone who wanted to spar with an amount of strategy.

Thor clapped a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie and beaming at her. His head turned. "Volstagg! I believe you wished to fight the winner?"

A man who was probably not always that pale stepped out of the crowd. "I did."

And so the day went. Sif came home muddy, sweaty, bloody, and with Thor's last words to her still swirling in her head.

"You must come back tomorrow." He'd said it as if they'd been friends for years.

She'd grinned and responded in kind. "I would not want to disappoint my prince."

* * *

><p>The third time Sif 'met' the princes of Asgard was expected and mildly boring.<p>

It was a banquet, and she was a novelty. Her costume—her mother's idea—was made specifically to showcase that fact. Armor, and over it a skirt, slit high enough up both sides to provide free movement and necessitate the trousers under it.

The only female warrior in the realm was introduced formally to her king, who nodded in greeting, her queen, who smiled maternally, Thor, who beamed at her like a child, and Loki, who gave her no more attention than custom required.

And, because she was a novelty, she gave a warrior's bow rather than a lady's curtsey. Her mother smiled indulgently and her father nearly growled. Neither seemed to notice that one was about as encouraging as the other. Neither took her training seriously. No surprise there. She had been spending all day "Out, back by dinner" for years with little question.

* * *

><p>The fourth time, after a particularly trying day, she met Loki.<p>

"Do you feel _anything_?" She nearly shouted as she whispered in their dark corner. "Thor nearly died; Hogun nearly died; everyone is showing some form of comfort and here you are _hiding_—"

Sif's jaw snapped shut audibly when Loki looked at her. He would not strike her, not here, not for this, but were he Thor, were he her father, were he anyone but himself and feeling this intensely, he would have. "_You _nearly died." His low growl was like his gaze, beyond the point where fear would make her fight or run, simply freezing her in place.

"You stupid _warrior_," and she had never before heard that word uttered as a curse, "you nearly _died_. If one of the others jumps into the healing room and acts like an idiot, he is forgiven; _I_ am _not_." His breath was a harsh and hot thing on her face; they were close enough that she wouldn't be able to punch him even if it did come down to fighting, and she didn't know if she wanted to fight or run or apologize or just do something so that he would stop _looking_ at her like the child who finds himself wanting, like the child she had been.

Loki stepped back, mask clicking back in place as easily as if it had never left. "I fear that I would not be conducive to their recovery in my current state." This was just as soft as his growl had been, but this was what he normally did. He'd explained it to her once, that people listened closer if one whispered.

"I'm so sorry," she said, for it was the only thing to say.

The trickster shrugged. "You wanted someone to fight, and everyone else is healing, or not clever enough to hold up their side of the conversation. I know the feeling." He smiled fleetingly, then walked away.

And, though it was the coward's way, she waited until he was too far gone to hear before calling after him.


End file.
